Page 20 of Duty and Desire

Chapter Eighteen

Gio

A s soon as I heard the click of the gate, I was on my feet and hurrying to the door. Nick stood there, wearing dark blue shorts, and a pale blue shirt that complemented his tan, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Missed me?”

I tugged him across the threshold, slammed the door shut, and gathered him in my arms. He dropped his bag and our lips fused in a heated kiss, his hands cradling the back of my head as he fed me soft moans of pleasure while I drew the scent of him into my nostrils, loving the smell of clean hair and clean skin.

Great minds, huh? I’d taken two showers since his departure.

“Wow,” he breathed when I released him. “That was some welcome.”

“I thought you’d be back before now.” I glanced at the bag. “Are you moving in?” I quipped.

“I came prepared. ”

I grinned. “For what?”

“Another night here. Just my toothbrush, toiletries, and a change of clothing.” He flushed. “And some… supplies.” My ears grew hot, and Nick’s eyes sparkled. He stroked them with his fingertips. “You could probably heat my house with the warmth coming from these.”

“They’re bright red, aren’t they?” Something that hadn’t changed as I grew older. My mom said she could always tell when I was hiding something, or ashamed.

“I could say no, but I’d be lying.” He bit his lip. “Did I just embarrass you?”

“Not exactly.” I coughed. “I might have done a little shopping myself, that’s all.”

Nick gave a slow, sexy smile that sent heat coursing through me.

I groaned. “You smile like that, and all I can think about is taking off every stitch you’re wearing, then spending the rest of the day?—”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “Later. First, tell me… did you write something for me?” His eyes were bright with amusement. “If you found the time to fit it in around your VIP, of course.”

I frowned. “VIP?”

Nick grinned. “Very Important Purchase. Well? Did you? That was partly why I stayed away so long. I wanted to give you time and space to write.”

I went out onto the veranda and picked up my notebook. Nick was almost bouncing when I handed it to him. He dropped onto the couch and opened it.

“Oh, I see. You expect me to stand here while you read?”

He peered up at me. “Could I have something to eat? Fruit, maybe? And some water?”

I smirked. “Want me to fetch you a pair of slippers? A pillow?”

His eyes gleamed. “I’ll let you know.” Then he went back to his reading.

I headed for the fridge, and removed the plastic carton of mango pieces I’d bought earlier. Then I grabbed the papaya, pineapple, and cantaloupe. My gaze alighted on the bananas hanging from a stand on the countertop, but I dismissed them.

The state I was in? Way too phallic.

But then again….

I broke off two bananas and added them to the platter of fruit, along with two bottles of water. Nick didn’t raise his head as I approached the couch. I placed the platter on the coffee table, then joined him.

It was the strangest feeling, sitting beside him while he read my words. I’d been a published author for many years, and yet I’d never felt so goddamn nervous, so apprehensive to know someone’s opinion. He said nothing, and with each passing minute my insides quivered in anticipation.

At last Nick shivered. “I think you’d better turn the ceiling fan on.” He fanned himself with the notebook. “It’s getting hot in here.” Then he opened it once more. “And even hotter in here .”

That did wonders for my ego. I grabbed a piece of mango, and held it out to him. “This will help you cool off.”

He didn’t take it from me, but opened his mouth. My heartbeat quickening, I fed him the luscious fruit, and his lips grazed my fingers. Juice trickled down over his chin, and my thermostat climbed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“You’re making a mess.” I took the notebook from him, placing it on the table, and then I leaned in to lick the juice.

Nick’s low moan reverberated through me, and I wanted to hear it again.

I grabbed another morsel, this time a piece of pineapple, except now I held it between my lips.

I closed the gap between us, and Nick bit into the fruit.

I finished it, and our mouths met in a sweet, lingering—and sticky—kiss.

“How’s the pineapple?” I asked as I broke the kiss, my voice rough.

“As sticky as the mango. Try it for yourself. But be careful. The juice gets everywhere.”

My body tingled, my heart pounded. “I think there’s a way around that.

” I sought the buttons on his shirt, popping each one free, taking my time.

Nick didn’t stop me, but held himself so still, his breathing ragged.

I pulled the flaps apart, revealing his chest, covered with a soft down, then went to work on the waistband of his shorts.

I undid the knotted cord, and Nick let out a gasp.

I peered at him. “Do I stop?”

His only response was a fervent shake of his head.

I eased the shorts down, then removed them completely. He leaned back against the seat cushions, his gaze locked on me, his tanned skin begging to be touched, kissed…

Something else was begging for my attention too.

My hands were on his thighs, guiding him into position, and he took the hint, until at last he lay there, spread for me.

Hard for me.

I picked up a piece of mango. “Hold still.”

Nick’s breathing hitched when I balanced the chunk of fruit. “You have got to be kidding.”

I grinned, then bent over to take it in my mouth. Juice trickled over warm flesh, and I licked up every trace of it.

“How about some papaya?” he croaked.

I grabbed a piece, and repeated the balancing act, except it proved to be an impossible task.

“Lie back,” I told him. “This won’t work unless you’re lying down.”

Nick gave a breathless laugh. “I blame that on you. Want me to hold it down for you?”

I grinned. “Look at you, so helpful.” I waited until he was ready, then positioned the piece of papaya, feeling him twitch beneath my fingertips.

I caught it in my lips, taking my time, and when I was done, I knelt on the rug beside the couch, and found something else to put in my mouth.

The skin on his inner thighs was warm and soft, and I stroked them while my head bobbed, my thoughts focused on one thing.

I wanted to watch Nick fall apart.

Nick

I dug my fingers into the seat cushion, riding the waves of pleasure that buffeted my body, cresting each one, convinced I’d reached the point of no return, only to have Gio back off, his eyes glittering as he held me steady with sticky, juice-covered fingers.

“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please.”

His grin sent a shiver through me, and I pushed up with my hips, a wordless demand. A moment to take a breath, and then he went back to his sensual torture, until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except wait for what I knew was coming.

“Gio… Oh God, Gio.”

Noises filled the air, and I realized they came from me, nonsensical ramblings as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. I arched my back, clinging to the cushions, my heart pounding.

“Yes… That’s it. Gio…So close.”

He picked up the pace, and I was there, a raw cry bursting from me, carried along on the final wave of exquisite bliss. Hearing Gio’s hoarse acclamation made the ending all the sweeter.

A moment later, I was melted, boneless, and covered in a sheen of sweat, with a smile I felt sure wouldn’t budge for the rest of the day.

I was also in need of a shower.

Gio moved until he held my face in his hands, his mouth crushed against mine, and I wrapped my arms around him, anchoring myself to him. When I found my voice, I chuckled.

“I never realized fruit could be so much fun.” I glanced at the coffee table. “And now I can’t wait to eat a banana.”

I’d always known I was happier when I was naked. Not something that was encouraged when I was growing up. But discovering Gio was of a similar mindset only convinced me further that this was meant to be.

We’re meant to be.

We sat on the couch, both of us smelling of Gio’s soap, and fed each other bits of cold cooked chicken by hand, an intimate act I’d never shared with anyone.

It was also an act that turned me on, especially when he sucked on my fingers, and one thing inevitably led to another. No fruit this time, but the end result was the same.

I foresaw a lot of showers in my future.

Back on the couch again—and a lot cleaner—I glanced at the notebook on the table, and bit back a smile as I pointed to it.

“You might need a new one. This is a little sticky.”

Gio laughed. “You noticed, huh?”

I studied him for a moment. “Let’s talk about your book.”

He frowned. “Which book?”

“The one you’re going to write while you’re on the island.” His air of puzzlement was adorable. I tapped the notebook with a finger. “What you wrote in here… This could be a great book. And you have a great resource.” I smiled. “Me.”

“But—”

I closed the gap between us in a heartbeat and kissed him. I traced the line of his cheek with my thumb. “You’re not writing about me. You’re writing about a tortured man who fled his home to live his life his way.”

Gio stared into my eyes. “And are you a tortured man?”

I kissed him again, only this time I added my fingers and tongue, loving the way he melted under my touch. When I broke the kiss, I pulled back and smiled.

“Not anymore.”